Dear Santa
by r2roswell
Summary: Emma writes letters to Santa over the years. Based off the song 'All I Really Want' by Steven Curtis Chapman
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: Emma- Age 3**

* * *

_Well, I don't know if you remember me or not  
I'm one of the kids they brought in from the home…  
You may not have seen me, I was standing off alone_

* * *

A three year old Emma Swan sat at her bed at the Riley residence. She had been taken in when she was a bay and for the first time in a short time, she felt like she had a real home even though she had known early on that she was adopted. Her adopted parents had told her so.

Jordan and Sarah Riley, her foster parents, were nothing but kind to her. She had her own room and Sarah had been decorating the house for Christmas. Her past Christmas' had been spent in children's group homes so this would be her first Christmas elsewhere and part of a real family.

Emma held a green crayon in her hand and over her left leg was her white embroidered blanket. In front of her were two sheets of pink construction paper. Hunched over, Emma began to write. She had learned how recently. If it's one thing Sarah loved it was teaching and she had been teaching Emma how to write.

'Dear Santa,' Emma wrote.

My name is Emma. Swan. Someone gave me that last name. It's okay.

I've tried to be good. I hope you think so.

This is what I want for Christmas:

- My real mommy and daddy

- A real home

- A book on fairytales.

Sarah read me a story of Snow White recently. I liked it alot.

I hope you can find me this year. Have a safe trip.

Love,

Emma

* * *

Emma looked at her letter to Santa and smiled. Pleased with how it came out. She made a few drawings on it. A few Christmas trees and a stack of presents and in the bottom right she drew a picture of herself and what she imagined her real parents to look like.

Emma then took the time to write the note over again on the other sheet of paper. She didn't want Santa to keep the letter. At least this way she could have a copy for herself and he could keep the other one.

With one of the copies she folded it and placed it in a wooden safety box that she had received last year from the home. She liked that box. It was special since on the cover was a swan carved into it.

* * *

Emma came racing down the hall toward the living room.

"Sarah, Sarah," she cried, "I finished my letter. It's going to Santa!"

Sarah smiled. "That's great Emma."

"Can we put it in the mail today?"

"Sure we can sweetie."

Jordan looked at Emma and nodded at his wife. Sarah sighed.

"Emma come here, there's something we need to tell you."

Emma went over and took a seat on the white couch next to Sarah.

Sarah took a deep breath, "Emma, you know we like you."

"I like you too."

"This is kind of hard to explain but sometimes things happen and plans change."

Jordan knelt in front of Emma, "Emma, Sarah is going to have a baby."

Emma's eyes lit up. "I'm going to be a big sister?" she asked excitedly.

Sarah looked at Jordan and he looked back at her.

Sarah took Emma's hand and patted it. "Not exactly sweetie. You see I'm not just having one baby, I'm having two. Emma, you're going to be going back to the home we got you from. You're going to be living with someone else soon."

Emma could feel tears in her eyes. "You don't want me anymore."

"No," said Sarah. "Of course we want you, we just can't right now that's all. It's too hard for all of us. You'll find a good home, I promise."

Emma got up from the couch, "No I won't," Emma screamed running to her room. "I hate you!" she screamed still running and dropping her letter to Santa.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Emma- Age 7**

* * *

_I didn't come and talk to you 'cause that's never worked before  
And you'll probably never see this letter, anyway  
But just in case there's something you can do to help me out  
I'll ask you one more time_

* * *

There was a bunch of noise as there was most days at the children's home. Kids ran around and aids tried to control them. Today wasn't as noisy as most days in the activity room. In the tv room down the hall Santa Claus was set up so the activity room was pretty empty except for a few other kids and a couple of adults.

Emma sat at a small round table by herself. In front of her was some color pencils and different colored construction paper. Picking out two green ones Emma began to compose her letter.

'Dear Santa," Emma began.

It's me again. Emma Swan. I don't know if you got my letters before. I hope you did.

No one has come to take me home yet. I really wish someone would come.

I'm not mad at you anymore for not giving me what I wanted.

I know you probably have a lot of kids asking for moms and dads too.

The girl next to me cries a lot. She says people came and took her from her home.

I know you're busy making toys but this is what I really want for Christmas this year:

- My mom and dad

- A real home

- New color pencils. These ones are all broken.

I hope you don't forget about me.

Love,

Emma

* * *

As she did every year Emma wrote the same letter a second time. She drew Christmas pictures on it and a picture of the family she dreamed of with herself and her parents. She folded one of them and placed it in her jeans pocket so that she wouldn't forget to put it in her box later.

With her letters complete, Emma got some regular paper and began drawing.

Miss Taylor, one of the aids looking after the kids in the activity room went over to Emma. She took a seat on one of the chairs across from her.

"Hey Sweetie, all of the other kids have had their turn with Santa. Do you want to go talk to him?"

Emma continued drawing. "No."

"Are you sure, you can tell Santa what you want for Christmas."

Emma took the second letter and showed the aid. "I all ready told him what I want. Can we put it in the mail?"

"Well Santa is here so maybe he'd like it if you gave it to him personally."

Emma shook her head. "I don't talk to Santa anymore."

Miss Taylor nodded. She had been working at the group home for over a decade and in the time she had known Emma Swan, the child had only talked to Santa once and that was when she was four years old. After that she gave up on talking to Santa.

Miss Taylor simply thought the young girl had given up on the childhood fantasy but seeing that she had still written a letter only proved her wrong. Well all children needed something to believe in. She had known kids who didn't stop believing in Santa until they were ten or twelve years old.

"Okay that's fine," said Miss Taylor. "Would it be okay if I gave Santa the letter for you?"

Emma looked at Miss Taylor and nodded glad she wouldn't have to do it herself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Emma- Age 9**

* * *

_All I really want for Christmas is someone to tuck me in_  
_A shoulder to cry on if I lose, shoulders to ride on if I win_  
_There's so much I could ask for, but there's just one thing I need_  
_All I really want for Christmas is a family_

* * *

Emma hated this home. She had been taken in a few weeks ago by a mixed racial couple in their late forties, Curt and Myra Pearson. For years they had taken in foster kids but they never adopted any. Currently they had six kids living under their roof.

Of the two, Curt was the nicest. At least he tried. Emma had gathered that it had always been his idea on the kids. Myra only tolerated them but never really cared and yet she loved Curt too much to do anything about it much less leave him.

Emma shared the room with four other girls; two sets of bunk beds in the room. She didn't like it but there wasn't much she could do. All she could do was what she was told and hope that she could do her time without any trouble.

The inside was too loud so Emma found a spot on the rock wall in the backyard.

She had taken some white computer paper and a couple of pencils from Curt's study. It was Myra's office that was off limits. Curt allowed the kids to go into his but the one rule was that they could only borrow school supplies and nothing else. If things were touched then there would be consequences. Emma didn't like the consequences. She had been strapped once before but it had been Myra who did the strapping even though she had been in Curt's office.

* * *

'Dear Santa,' Emma began.

Another year, another letter. I bet you're getting tired of me by now.

I'm getting tired too and yet I still write you. How crazy am I?

I'm still trapped in the system but I'm sure you know that.

You're Santa, you know everything.

When are my mom and dad coming for me?

Are you even looking? I thought it would be my turn by now.

You've helped so many kids, are you ever going to help me?

I don't like it here. I just want to go home wherever that may be.

I'm asking you for the same things again but I'm sure you're bored by now.

I'm gonna ask them anyways okay?

My real mom and dad

My real home

And for the third thing what I really want now is to be loved.

I never knew what that was before until I heard some kids talk about it at school.

They said their parents loved them and they kind of explained it.

They said it was like magic.

No one loves me in these homes.

There is no magic here. I'm nothing to anyone.

I hope you can give me what's on my list this year.

Love,

Emma

* * *

By the time Emma had finished writing her second copy, her first safely in her jeans, two of the boys, Michael and Chris who were twelve along with one of the girl's, Janice, who was thirteen, came over to Emma.

"Aw the little Swan is all by herself," Chris teased.

"She's not even human," said Janice. "She spends too much time by herself."

"Ha ha yeah," said Michael. "I bet her mommy and daddy sent her away from some other planet to save her."

"Please," said Chris, "She's not Superman. She's not special."

Emma took their teasing in silence until Chris reached down for her paper.

Emma stood up, "Hey give that back!"

"No way," said Chris. He turned it over and began laughing as he read it.

"Give me that," said Janice taking the letter and reading it and she too began laughing. "Aw the little Swan girl still believes in Santy-Cwas!"

"Give it!" Emma demanded.

"That's not the funny part," Chris said ignoring Emma. "The funny part is the little Swan girl thinks Santee Claws can bring back her mommy and daddy."

"Give it up Swan girl," said Janice. "Your mommy and daddy are never coming for you."

"I'll find them," said Emma. "You'll see."

"Never gonna happen," said Michael. "You're stuck here just like the rest of us."

"Face it kid," said Janice. "We're on the island of misfits. No one ever wants us and more importantly no one is ever going to want you."

The trio laughed. Janice tore the paper into pieces and tossed them at Emma. "Keep dreaming Swan girl."

"Yeah," replied Michael. "Keep dreaming."

The trio continued to laugh as they walked away.

Emma got on the floor and began to pick up the pieces of paper. She could feel the tears coming but she controlled herself.

She would not give anyone the satisfaction of seeing her cry, not now, not ever.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Emma- Age 12**

* * *

_Well, I guess I should go ahead and tell you now_  
_If it's really true about that list you have_  
_Somehow I always seem to end up in a fight_  
_But I'm really trying hard not to be bad_

* * *

Emma sat on the square roof on top of the group home.

This one was different than the other group homes she'd been in. This one was an all-girl's home in Boston. It was the first time Emma had been outside of Maine.

She found herself enjoying her new home despite being stuck in the system. There were times when the staff from this home would actually do stuff for the kids: they would take them to museums or explore other sites of what the city had to offer. It was a lot more freeing than most homes she had been in still it could never erase the pain completely and no one could ever really answer her question of 'why would anyone give me away.'

The evening was freezing. From what she had seen earlier on the TV, the news report had said it would get down to the forties by mid-afternoon and continue to drop.

Still, Emma didn't mind the cold. She sat on the lawn chair, bundled up, her embroidered white blanket curled around her, a notebook open, on the table next to her she had a cup of cocoa which the cafeteria staff offered on a daily basis and at any time given that it was the holidays. They wanted it to feel like Christmas and they strongly believed hot chocolate and apple cider did that.

Emma took a sip of her hot chocolate, the whipped cream with sprinkled cinnamon making a small mess on her lips which she licked off.

Emma looked at her cup. Often she thought about why she had liked her chocolate with cinnamon. Her earliest memory of having hot chocolate was when she was living happily with the Riley's when she was three years old.

* * *

On one night for dinner rather than the warm milk that Sarah always provided, she placed a cup of hot chocolate in front of Emma instead. Young Emma tried it for the first time and though she liked it, there had been something off about it.

"What's wrong," Sarah said noting Emma's disproval.

"It tastes funny," Emma replied.

"Oh," said Sarah sounding disappointed. "I can get you something else if you like."

"It's not that. It tastes good." Emma sat and concentrated. "There's just something missing. It needs something."

"Okay," said Sarah smiling a little. "What do you think it's missing?"

"Something sweet," said Emma.

"Ah I see," Sarah said going to the refrigerator. She reached in and pulled out a tub of Cool Whip. She then went over and got spoon.

"Try this," said Sarah placing a dab of it in Emma's cup.

Emma took a sip. The foam of the cream got on her mouth but Emma was too deep in thought to consider cleaning herself.

"Better,"

"But not right yet hu," said Sarah.

Emma's eyes brightened, "Do you have cinam-… cinmin?"

Emma remembered the brown powdery substance from when she and Sarah had worked on baking cookies a day ago.

Sarah looked at Emma curiously but obliged the girl. "Sure, we still have some left," Sarah said getting up and going to the cupboard. She pulled out a small plastic container and came over to Emma. She opened it so that the cinnamon would only come out through the small holes.

"I'll do it," Emma said taking the container from her foster mom.

Emma sprinkled a little at first on the very top of the whipped cream. It wasn't enough so she sprinkled a little more around the edges of it and then placed the container back on the table.

Emma took another sip, this time a bigger one and much longer.

"How is it," Sarah asked.

"Perfect," Emma said with a smile.

* * *

A chill brought Emma out of her memory. It was getting colder by the minute and so she knew she didn't have much time. Still being up here on the roof was better than being downstairs surrounded by other people who would want to know what she was doing. Sure she talked to people but she always felt better alone. She felt like she could breathe.

Emma brought her pen down on the lined paper.

* * *

Dear Santa,

Should I even call you that now?

I think I'm getting too old to believe in you.

Maybe calling you 'God' would be better.

He is all knowing too isn't he?

At least that's what I'm told.

And from what I know,

adults believe in God more than they believe in Santa.

I don't know,

I never grew up with religion so I don't know the first thing

about God or any of that stuff.

Santa. God.

I guess it doesn't matter what I call you just as long as I write.

I've thought about giving up on this all together

but it's the only thing that gives me comfort especially around the holidays.

I'm starting to hate other kids now,

and not just the kids in my home who always complain.

I've come to stay silent.

I hate the kids at school too.

I've always hated them I guess but now I really do.

All they talk about is their moms and dads and being loved

and what they want for Christmas this year.

I'm starting to hate the holidays too.

I hate waiting in line for a pair of shoes

or clothes or a new toy that come from hand-me-downs from the rich people.

I've always felt like nothing but that feeling is worse when others know it too.

Stuff like that is okay but no one can give me what I really want.

No one has come to take me in and adopt me yet.

And my parents haven't found me. Did they even want me?

Last year for Christmas when I was in a different home,

a boy, Tyler, gave me a set of Superman comic books.

I think he liked me a little because he's the only boy

who has ever been nice to me.

He liked to make up stories about the kids in

the homes and why they were there.

He told me that I'd probably like the comics

because to him I was some kind of savior.

He said there was magic in me.

He said I was like Superman-

that my parents sent me away to give me my best chance and

that when I become older like Superman I can save people.

Superman never found his parents.

They died when they sent him away but maybe I can find mine.

I still think Tyler was crazy in saying that

but what do I know, I'm only 12.

So Santa or God or whatever you're called,

if you can't give me what I want

then maybe I'll find my parents myself,

if they didn't die like Superman's.

I'll give you until I'm 13 and next Christmas

and if you don't find them by then I'm doing it myself.

I can't rely on anyone in this world.

Maybe I can't rely on you either.

-Emma

* * *

Emma placed this second copy in another envelope. She felt proud of herself for the letter she had composed, managing to write it twice. It was the longest she had ever written. Emma had always had an act for writing but of course no one knew that. She had made up long stories in school but they were never anything personal the way this was.

Emma folded the letter and placed it in her jacket pocket. She then heard the door open off to the side.

"Emma Swan, there you are," said Mrs. Royce.

Emma turned to look at the white haired woman but said nothing.

"We've been looking all over for you," she said shivering. "Come on inside dear, aren't you freezing?"

Emma shrugged. To be honest she hadn't really noticed the cold.

Mrs. Royce noticed the things around Emma, the blanket, the hot chocolate.

"You really have been up here for a while haven't you?"

Emma shrugged again. "I like the silence."

"I'm sure you do but come on, it's time to come inside now. The other girls want to sing Christmas carols around the tree."

"Can't I just stay up here then?"

"And let you freeze to death," Mrs. Royce said. "Not on my watch."

Sighing, Emma got up and gathered her things. She wrapped her blanket around herself, the name portion in front.

"Do I have to sing?" she asked as she got near Mrs. Royce.

"Not if you don't want to but it might be fun."

"Since when is Christmas ever fun," Emma asked as the two made their way inside.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Emma- Age 14**

* * *

_But maybe if I had a brother or a dad to wrestle with_  
_Maybe they could teach me how to get along_  
_And from everything I've heard, it sounds like the greatest gift on earth_  
_Would be a mom_

* * *

Dear Santa God,

I guess it shouldn't surprise me that you didn't get what was on my Christmas list.

When my thirteenth Christmas came around nothing happened.

My real parents didn't come for me.

And no one else wanted me.

I'm stuck in these stupid homes again.

This is my life and it's time I accepted that.

I've started my search for my parents though.

I came across some news articles and some police files.

One of the aids here, Miss Camila Milano, Cammy, has been real helpful in getting them for me.

She's the only nice adult here. She understands kids like me.

She was always in the system too and she was never adopted either.

She said that she wanted this job so she could help kids in my situation,

to be there for us when no one else could.

Out of all the adults that pass through my life I like her the most.

She really is one of us.

I asked her if she ever found her parents and she told me she did but

it didn't turn out to be what she imagined. Long story short, her mom was

only fifteen when she had her and her dad was a senior in high school,

on the fast track with a baseball scholarship but when he found

out she was pregnant his life turned for the worst.

Cammy found out her mom had died a year later when her dad was driving drunk.

I hope my parents aren't like that. I think about them a lot. Who they are, what they do for a living.

I can't help but think of Tyler again and him calling me a savior.

I don't know why that continues to stick in my mind.

Maybe because secretly I'd like to believe I am some kind of super hero

and that my parents were like Superman's parents.

That they did love me but had to give me away for reasons out of their

control even though realistically I know that's not true.

I'm not the only foster kid to imagine their

parents be some kind of superheroes.

Still the fantasy is sometimes better

than the reality.

You know I really want my parents but lately

what I've really needed is my mom.

I've gone through changes and while the aids

do what they can it's not the same.

For some reason it feels that even though this girl stuff is uncomfortable,

sometimes a girl just needs her mom you know?

I hate having to go through this alone as I do most things.

I really wish my mom was here.

I may not believe in you like I used to but

I write these letters now for me.

Nothing will happen this year.

Nothing ever happens

but I like that I have at least one holiday

tradition when the holiday season around me sucks.

I wish people weren't so happy all the time but I guess they can't help it

just like I can't help that I was dealt the wrong hand.

Good luck helping other kids.

I hope you can since you've never helped me.

-Emma

* * *

"Swan," said Greg Sager coming into Emma's group bedroom. "You ready?"

Emma sighed as she placed away the letters she wrote. Her bottom bunk was made and all that was on it was a blue duffle bag. She put her wooden swan box with the letters inside the bag underneath her blanket.

Today was proof that the holidays didn't mean anything. She was being shipped off to another home.

A couple weeks ago a couple had been looking for a few kids to take in and Emma had been chosen as one of them. The couple, going by the name of Steven and Rebecca Davis, had thought that today would be a good day to take their three children home. Wards were more like it, Emma thought. To the Davis couple they thought they were doing a service by taking in children on Christmas day.

Emma knew how this worked. People got so sentimental over the holidays, wanting to do their good deed of the year, and then once it was over they shipped them back. They were nothing but rentals to these people.

"Do I really have to go," Emma asked Mr. Sager as she grabbed her bag and followed him down the hallway.

"Quit complaining," Mr. Sager said even though she wasn't. She was only asking a simple question. "You should be happy you're getting a home," he said coldly.

"There is no such thing as home," Emma said.

"Hey watch your lip girl. And don't let Mr. and Mrs. Davis hear you say that. They're nice people. They don't deserve to be talked to the way you talk to me."

Emma looked at her feet as she walked. "Yes sir, Mr. Sager."

* * *

The two made their way into the conference room where Steven and Rebecca were waiting. Emma saw two other kids all ready in the room: A boy about her age and a girl who seemed to be around five or six.

"There she is," Steven said with a smile.

Rebecca also smiled, "You ready to go home Emma?"

"Where is it again," Emma asked, avoiding the use of the word 'home'.

"It's in Hoboken, New Jersey," said Steven.

"You'll like it there," said Rebecca, "I promise."

Emma looked at Rebecca. "Grown-ups always lie," Emma said to the woman. "Don't make promises you can't keep."

Mr. Sager took a step forward and pinched Emma. She didn't let that get to her. "Mind your manners Swan." Greg looked up at the couple apologetically. "Sorry ma'am. She has a mouth on her. Are you sure you want this one?"

Rebecca clasped her hands. "My mother took in juveniles when she was my age. I know how to handle them."

"Well then, good luck to ya."

Mr. Sager nodded before excusing himself to go deal with another situation in the home.

Rebecca and Steven looked at the kids and they both smiled.

"Come on," he said to them. "Let's go home."

Steven helped the two other kids with their bags and when he reached to help Emma with hers, Emma wrapped her arms around her bag keeping it close, not wanting to let it go.

"Okay," Steven said with a smile, "You can hold onto that one."

The couple walked out of the room first and the three kids all looked at each other before reluctantly following.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: Emma- Age 16**

* * *

_All I want for Christmas is someone who'll be here_  
_To sing me happy birthday for the next 100 years_  
_And It's okay if they're not perfect or even if they're a little broken_  
_That's alright, 'Cause so am I_

* * *

"So what happens now," Emma asked as she sat in the office with her social worker, Claudia Jensen.

"That's up to you miss Swan," Claudia Jensen replied. "You're free to go."

"Just like that, I can leave?"

"Yes. You're not legally obligated to stay here any longer and the state can't make you. You've known the rules since you were a child. You either get taken in by a family or you age out of the system which is what you've done. You can gather your things but after that you're free to go."

Emma sat in the chair for a moment letting it all sink in. Claudia looked up from Emma's file. "You can go now Miss Swan."

Emma gave a polite smile before standing up.

"Um, Mrs. Jensen, I was wondering, do you think maybe I can take that file? You know, because it has my records and other documents I might need."

"I don't see why not. Here," Claudia said handing over the file. "We have the copies and that's all we need so you're allowed to take this one."

Emma took the file. "Thank you."

"Good luck Miss Swan."

Emma nodded to her social worker as she left her office.

* * *

She made her way down the hall and turned the corridor that led to her room which she shared with another girl, Annette Rios who was only fourteen.

Much to Emma's distain, the girl was there in the room. She was lying on her stomach with a magazine in her hands.

Emma always hated that her bed had not been the one near the door. It would've made for a quick entrance and easy exit. Instead she had to walk the several feet where her bed was located near the window.

Emma quietly gathered some of her clothes off the floor and placed them in a black duffle bag which she had acquired earlier this year. It was larger than her blue one and held a little bit more clothes that she had come by.

Emma checked her stuff to make sure Annette or anyone else didn't steal anything. It was so easy. Emma had done some stealing herself, not from other kids but from the adults. They hardly noticed much so it was easy. Emma zipped up the bag after checking that everything was safe.

The last thing Emma picked up was her white embroidered blanket that was on the bed. She looked at it and ran her hand over the purple texture that held her name. For sixteen years this blanket had been hers. For sixteen years she had wondered where she had gotten it, knowing only that it's what she had been wrapped in when she was found. For sixteen years she wondered about the person who made it. For sixteen years she wondered about the parents that put her in it and what they were like.

"You are so lucky you're leaving," Annette said taking Emma out of her thoughts as she turned over on her back and looked at the ceiling. "I'd do anything to get out of here."

"At least you still have a roof over your head."

"You don't know where you're going to end up?"

"Does it really matter at this point," Emma asked.

"Guess not. Kind of sucks for kids like us doesn't it? We're screwed the second we get placed in this hell hole and we're screwed when they kick us out of it. Not much of a future for us is there?"

"Not really."

Emma gathered her bags. "See you around Nettie," she said as she made her way to the door.

"Not likely," said Annette as she sat up on her bed.

Emma looked at Annette and knew the girl was right.

"Good luck," Neetie said to her, "And hey Swan, Merry Christmas."

Emma was taken aback. Despite the holiday cheer around the home and around town the fact that today was Christmas Emma had completely forgotten all about it. Two years ago she had been going to a new home for Christmas. Today she was being kicked out because she had aged out of the system. Emma hated life's little curve balls but there was nothing she could do about it.

"Same to you," Emma said leaving the room.

* * *

The night in Boston was getting quite cold.

Emma Swan made her way into a café several miles from the group home. She ordered a hot chocolate with cinnamon and paid for it with what cash she had saved over the years or stolen rather, at least some of it had been.

She then made her way to the furthest booth along the wall and settled her bags next to her. Reaching inside her blue one she pulled out a notepad and pen. She also pulled out the file which her social worker had let her take. She could feel her wooden swan box at the very bottom of the bag but held off on that for a moment.

Placing her writing utensils on the table, Emma took a sip of her drink and sighed as she picked up the pen.

'Dear Santa,' she wrote. She drew a couple of lines through those words since she couldn't erase them. Instead she wrote, 'Dear God.' Not pleased with that either, Emma crossed them out. She settled on:

* * *

Dear You,

It's that time of year again.

I had completely forgotten if I'm being honest.

Yeah I've seen the decorations, heard the same old Christmas carols

but they're meaningless at this point. Just like every home I've ever been in.

And yet the only thing that has some kind of meaning

other than the baby blanket that I hold dear,

are these letters which no one will ever read anyways,

letters which I gave up on you ever answering.

I know now that there's no such thing as magic

or there's no such thing as miracles.

I've even given up on you.

So maybe in the end, at least now,

there's really no point to this-

it's become something to just pass the time I suppose.

The only life you have is the one the world

throws you into and all you can do is find a way

to handle it even if you do get screwed over the way I have.

I was tossed away once before,

I've been tossed away by countless foster families,

and I find myself tossed away once again

but this time there is no going back,

there is no temporary home.

I'm on my own and I'm alone.

I don't know what will happen.

For being all knowing I wish you

could tell me but maybe you're not all knowing as everyone believes.

Maybe it's all a lie.

Maybe Santa, God, all of it, is just a lie that adults

tell children to make them feel better.

Well sorry to disappoint you but I'm passed it,

I grew up.

Faith and hope are the biggest lies of all

and that's okay with me.

It's better to not have any of that than to give a person

false hope and unrealistic expectations.

I understand now that you will never find

my parents and so I will continue to do it.

I've been asking questions, looking for answers

for as long as I could remember so now I'll just take it a step further.

I'm on my own now, no one to answer to

and so I'll look for as long as it takes.

It feels as natural as the first moment

I asked my foster family where I came from.

I don't want anything from you today.

Instead I'm going to prove to you that

I will find my mom and dad, I will find them

and I don't need any of your magic

or your help to do it.

You'll see-

I do better on my own.

-Emma

* * *

"Excuse me miss, miss," a young bus boy said looking at Emma. Emma looked up at him. "I'm sorry but we're about to close."

Emma looked up and saw that all of the customers had gone. She looked down at her cup, completely unaware that she had finished it in the course of composing the two letters.

"Oh," said Emma placing the letters in her wooden box, also unaware of when she had pulled it out. Emma placed her belongings back in her bag and gathered the rest of her things. She then got up from the table and made her way to the exit.

"Have a good night," said the bus boy, "And Merry Christmas."

Emma sighed. "Yeah, you too," she said not being able to bring herself to say the words back.

Emma took a deep breath as she walked out into the night, into the cold, into the lonely unknown for the very first time.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: Emma- Age 18**

* * *

_Well, I guess I should go, it's almost time for bed_  
_Maybe next time I write you I'll be at home_

* * *

The communal room was the same it always was the past eight months: White walls, round tables with gray chairs, several windows with bars that lined both the out and inside and a boxed office with windows all around it along with a side door where a security guard was stationed. It was Loretta's shift today. Some days she worked in the communal room and others she roamed the floors of the cells.

What made this minimum security correction facility different than most was that there was a completely separate wing for pregnant inmates so they were kept out of the general population. To Emma it reminded her of past stories she had heard where families would take their pregnant child out of regular school and send them off to a special school for teenage mothers.

The guards who worked in general population were always quick to complain, saying that no one should be segregated regardless of their condition since in the end they had all done something to place them here. Guards in the pregnancy ward usually fired back by saying that it was safer. Not all of the women in the facility as a whole were good and some would do whatever it takes even if it meant harming a mother and her unborn child as had happened back in the 1970s. That was the worst it had ever gotten for a minimum security prison but despite that it was for that reason it had always been why there was a separate sector.

* * *

Emma glanced up from her table. Normally she kept to herself but it was only natural to glance around every once in a while. Despite the separate facility, one could never be too cautious even if the inmates, in both populations, were nonviolent. There were only four other pregnant women in the room: Five pregnant women that made up a population of nearly one hundred and fifty.

Of the five, Emma was the youngest of them all. She hated that. She hated the way the other inmates looked at her. Judging her. A teenage girl pregnant and in prison. Many had offered advice over time, telling her what she should and should not do. They thought they were just being helpful. They weren't. They didn't know her. Emma had never allowed herself to get close to anyone. You only got burned that way and she had all ready been burned countless times before so she took their words in silence but never letting herself to dwell on them. The words were as meaningless as the white walls: constantly there but after a while you failed to really notice them.

Emma's eyes settled on the guard Loretta for a quick moment before she turned her attention back down. She hated Loretta. Though the woman was just doing her job and was for the most part non-threatening despite the cold demeanor she needed to have it was still easy to hate anyone while she was here.

* * *

There was pressure in her abdomen. Emma winced as the pain got sharper. Emma took her left hand and hesitantly rubbed the spot.

She didn't like the changes her body had gone through in these last eight months. She didn't feel like herself anymore and more importantly she hated what it represented: a reminder of what her ex had done to her and what he had managed to leave behind.

Still Emma knew it was senseless. She couldn't fault the kid, not really. He hadn't asked to be brought into her situation.

At least she thought it was a 'he'. That's what Emma had always pictured. She tried to force herself to picture a girl thinking it would be easier so that she wouldn't have to see Neal in her child's looks but that never happened and so she had accepted that it was most likely a boy growing inside her.

Emma continued to rub the spot until her son settled down inside her.

"Not long now kid," she whispered. "You'll be out of there in no time."

Emma felt another kick, this one harder than the others as if in response to her words.

"You're going to be a little trouble maker aren't you?" Another kick. Emma sighed and said more to herself than to her bulging stomach, "Well you parents are trouble makers too, so it makes sense." Emma reached up for her pen on the table. "Sorry about that kid," she said as she began to write.

It was that time of year again and despite her circumstances Emma was not about to go a year without it.

* * *

Dear-,

For once I really don't know where to start.

You've seen my life.

You've seen where I ended up.

Guess I never will get my happily ever after will I?

That's okay I've come to accept that.

I could be selfish and ask for the people I want most

but I'm not going to do that this year.

* * *

As if answering her thoughts Emma felt a nudge. The kid was active today.

Emma continued the letter.

* * *

There's something, someone,

more important this year.

Though I don't show it, I do love my son.

How can someone love someone else so much

when they haven't even met?

How is that even possible?

Especially at my age when teenage pregnancy is frowned upon so deeply.

I wish I knew what to do. I wish I had some kind of answer.

My due date is getting closer at least that's what the doctor tells me.

I am so afraid for when that day comes.

What will happen then?

What will happen to me?

What will happen to him?

I love my son but am I really ready to be a mother?

Most of the time I don't think so.

It's bad enough the kid will be born in jail.

I don't want to be one of those teenage mothers with no family,

with a baby on her hip just trying to survive.

That's not the kind of life I want for him.

He deserves better than that,

he deserves to have his best chance.

I'm just not sure that it's with me.

I'm going to be selfish now and say

that I wish I had my mom and dad.

I wish they could be in my life to help me through this.

I've grown accustomed to being alone but still

that doesn't stop the ache of wanting

a family of my own.

That's what makes this decision so hard

because if I keep my kid then at least I won't be alone anymore

but then I'm really being selfish aren't I?

So I guess in the end what I

really want this year is one thing,

for my kid to have his best chance

regardless if that's with me or not.

-Emma

* * *

As Emma finished composing the second copy of the letter, Loretta came out from her office.

"Alright ladies," she said, "That's it time's up. Gather your belongings and head back to your cells."

Emma sighed and cautiously got up. She felt like she was going to pop any day now even though she still had a month to go.

Between herself and the four other inmates Emma's due date was the closest. She didn't like that one bit as it made her the center of attention. She always preferred to be in the shadows and out of the spotlight.

A slightly older woman, Robyn, who was in her mid twenties and only four months pregnant came over and helped Emma gather the papers that were on the table.

"You okay," Robyn asked.

"I'm fine," Emma replied.

Robyn nodded to Emma's stomach. "It's been kicking a lot hasn't it?"

Emma nodded as the two women walked slowly. "I think he's getting tired in there and so am I."

"So it's a boy?"

Emma shrugged. "I'm not sure yet. I think it's a boy," she said as she saw some of the other women look at her with a mixture of distain and discomfort.

"Hey," said Robyn. "I wouldn't worry about them. My mom had me when she was sixteen so I get it."

Emma took the papers and pen Robyn when they reached her cell. "Thanks," she said to the woman.

Robyn smiled and touched Emma's arm. "Hang in there."

Emma smiled back and made her way inside.

Once all five women were in their cells the guards remotely closed the gates.

* * *

Emma walked over to the shelf where she pulled down one book and then another. In one of the books the pages had been cut out to form a square. It was there she placed her letters since she didn't have access to her wooden swan box. That was in storage along with the rest of her belongings.

She placed the book back where it belonged and got the second one, taking it to her bed. It was a series of Grimm's fairytales entitled simply, "Once Upon a Time" which she had gotten from one of the local charities.

Emma hated that there was a charity to help pregnant inmates but she supposed it was just like anything else, charities for people who were sick or hungry or dealing with natural disaster. It confused Emma that people on the outside would take the time to care for people who were incarcerated by choices that they had made or befallen them.

* * *

Getting settled on her bunk Emma covered herself and placed the book on her stomach, opening it.

"Okay kid, where were we?" Emma asked as she found the page and began to read:

_[As they looked into each other's eyes, they didn't need words to express what they felt in their hearts for it was here in the shadow of the troll bridge that their love was born for they knew no matter how they were separated they would always find each other...]_

Page by page Emma flipped through the story. Though she had heard the story of Snow White before it was still one she could never really put down. And what made this time slightly special was that she wasn't just reading it for her but for the life growing inside her, for the child she hoped would have adventures of his own some day.

Emma continued to read and was nearing the end of the story.

_[And yes she was beyond hope, beyond saving, this was her end. When Prince Charming saw his beloved Snow White in her glass coffin he knew all that was left was to say goodbye. He had to give her one last kiss and when he did true love proved more powerful than any curse. A pulse of pure love shuttered out and engulfed the land, waking up Snow White and bringing light to the darkness..._

_With one kiss true love's power made everything right again but this was not the end of their story it was just the beginning.]_

* * *

Emma's eyes filled with tears as she closed the book and let it drop to the floor.

"I'm sorry kid," she said resting one hand on top of her stomach and one underneath, cradling the life inside her. "You don't deserve any of this." Emma took a deep breath, "but I know what I have to do."

With heavy eyes and a heavy heart Emma allowed herself to drift and get some sleep.

* * *

**Author's Note #1**: Snow White story excerpts take from episodes:

_S01E03- Snow Falls_

_S01E22-A Land without Magic_

_S02E09- Queen of Hearts_

**Author's Note #2:** I tried to research how pregnant inmates are kept and treated but I couldn't find much so what was written was simply my interpretation. I could be wrong.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: Emma- Age 28**

* * *

_'Cause all I really want for Christmas is someone to tuck me in_  
_Tell me I'll never be alone, someone whose love will never end_

* * *

The lights at the sheriff station were all off except for a lamp in the main office. It was Christmas Eve as Emma sat at her office desk. She had several files open and a notepad in front of her. They were the same files Emma always had, the one she had received from her social worker and a file that was slightly bigger with information she had managed to gather over the years.

She sighed, saddened by the fact that she was still nowhere closer to finding her parents than she had in the countless years that she'd been searching for them. Giving up, Emma closed the files and focused on the pad of paper in front of her. She clicked the pen to life and began to write.

* * *

Dear You,

I know I'm a day early with this but it's easier now

when I'm alone so I don't have to explain it later.

For once I'm no longer alone this Christmas and

being around a bunch of foster kids doesn't count.

A lot has happened in just two months.

Two months ago the kid I gave up for adoption

came looking for me.

Not having a permanent place to call home

I ended up uprooting my place in Boston

and came here for him.

You never did give me what I asked for ten years ago

and that was for my kid to have his best chance.

I thought he'd be better off without me but that wasn't the case.

In the time I've gotten to know him it turns out we needed each other,

I just never allowed myself to accept that.

I'd gotten so good at convincing myself

that I never had a kid even though it was always

there in the back of my mind.

Now I can't imagine my life without him.

I can't imagine my life without Mary Margaret either, my friend and roommate.

There's something about her, something I can't quite put my finger on.

She trusts me and yet she doesn't know the first thing about me.

All she knows is that I gave up Henry,

that I was in the foster system and that I haven't found my parents;

common things that most people usually know.

And yet in a weird way she doesn't have to know me to somehow connect.

I've never had that kind of bond with anyone before.

* * *

Emma couldn't help but smile and laugh a little as she wrote down the next part.

* * *

Henry is convinced that the reason Mary Margaret

and I connect so well is because she's really my mom.

All kids have an active imagination I suppose,

more so those of us who know what it's like to be given up by our parents.

We want so badly to believe that our parents are saviors

and superheroes or princesses and princes;

someone to come and take us out of the darkness and

whisk us away to some castle or happily ever after that doesn't even exist.

Anything is better than the reality of knowing that in the end

we were left abandoned regardless of the reason our parents had.

Being a mom and being a friend is all strange to me

and yet in this short time I've all ready come to care deeply for them.

Henry and Mary Margaret are family and that's something I've never had before.

So with that I am asking for two things this year:

-The first is please don't let me screw this up.

-And the second is that lately I've thought about giving up the search for my parents.

Mary Margaret says I shouldn't.

I've just been looking for them so long without any luck or any leads

that often times giving up seems like the best option at this point.

And then I look at Henry and I see the strength and faith he has.

For a ten year old he was resourceful and was able to find me

so maybe I shouldn't give up just yet.

So if I can't find them myself this year

maybe you could give me a little nudge in the right direction, just this once.

After that I'll stop asking for that which I want most.

I will go as far as this, thank you for bringing my son back to me.

I wasn't sure I could do it at first,

I wasn't sure I could be there for him or even if I should

but Henry is one of the best things in my life.

And even though I still don't know the first thing

about being a mother since I never had one

I do hope I can find a way to be the kind of mother he deserves.

He's a great kid and he deserves a good life.

And also thank you for Mary Margaret.

I don't know how I could've gotten through all these changes without her.

Maybe my luck is changing.

Love,

-Emma

* * *

After the letters were folded and placed in their envelopes Emma unlocked her bottom desk drawer. She removed some items from the top and pulled out a silver lock box. She unlocked that as well to reveal her swan carved walnut wooden box. She pulled it out and placed it on the desk.

Before placing her letters in their traditional spot there was a knock on the side door and Emma looked over to see Mary Margaret standing there with a smile.

"Hey," Emma said to her.

"Hey," Mary Margaret replied. "Did you forget?"

"Forget what?"

"We were going to decorate the tree tonight remember?"

Emma looked at Mary Margaret. Yes she had agreed to that. Mary Margaret had told Emma that decorating the Christmas tree on Christmas Eve had been a tradition that Mary Margaret had for as long as she could remember.

Emma glanced behind her at the clock on the counter. She was supposed to meet Mary Margaret at the apartment at 7 PM. It was now 8:15.

"Oh man, I completely lost track of time," Emma said beginning to feel guilty, "I'm so sorry."

"That's okay, we've still got time." Mary Margaret glanced down to Emma's desk. "New case?" she asked.

Emma smiled. She liked that Mary Margaret took an interest in her work much as she did with Mary Margaret's teaching job.

"No," Emma replied, "Just some old case files." Emma bit her lip and then decided to hell with it. "They're my files actually."

Mary Margaret looked up at Emma in understanding. "Still no leads on your parents hu?"

"There never are but that doesn't stop me from trying."

"You'll see them again, I know it."

Emma began to gather up her files, "You have Henry's optimism now?"

Mary Margaret smiled and let out a small laugh, "Guess he's rubbing off on me." Mary Margaret took a step closer to Emma and took one of her hands. "I know it's not the same but you've got a new family now and when you do find your parents you won't be alone."

Smiling, Emma looked at Mary Margaret. "Thanks," she replied.

"Let's go home," Mary Margaret said to her friend.

"Okay. Mind giving me a minute, I'll just meet you in the hallway."

"Sure," Mary Margaret replied with a smile and headed out of the office.

* * *

With Mary Margaret out of teh office, Emma looked down at her desk. Her files were gathered all that was left were the two letters she composed. Her fingers trembled as she ran her hand over the carved swan. The box was getting slightly heavy with what today would make fifteen letters plus a few copies. Throughout her childhood she had put some in the mail but when she got older and realized there was no Santa Claus to send them to she kept the copies herself.

Opening the lid Emma placed the newest letters in them. She returned the box to its place in the lock box, placed it back at the bottom of the drawer, covering it with the items she had previously removed and locked the drawer. She then gathered her files and walked over to turn off the light. Grabbing her black coat Emma made her way to the door and locked it behind her.

Emma smiled in the darkened office before heading to the hall where Mary Margaret was waiting.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9: Emma- Age 29**

* * *

_Of all that I could ask for, well, there's just one thing I need_  
_All I really want for Christmas is a family_

* * *

In the new three bedroom, two bathroom apartment that she shared with her son and parents, Emma stood at the counter with a cup of hot cocoa as she watched Mary Margaret and David decorate the Christmas tree with their grandson in the living room. In the background Christmas music played on the radio. It was Christmas Eve again.

Mary Margaret hummed some of the lyrics and Henry laughed at some lame joke that David had made.

Watching this moment unfold felt strange to Emma but in a good way. Despite the struggles in her life and despite the changes of the past year, watching this moment seemed normal. Normal wasn't something she was used to.

She had been so used to avoiding the holidays all together for the most part until last year when she moved in with Mary Margaret who had insisted they celebrate the holiday. Last Christmas Eve she had decorated the tree with her, then friend and come Christmas day they had exchanged gifts and even Henry had been allowed by Regina to spend some of the day with them.

Life was constantly changing but still, Emma couldn't help but be surprised at how things had finally gotten better; funny how her luck had turned around when her son re-entered her life. It was more than just the curse and more than just prophecy fulfilling itself. According to conversations she'd had with Gold, Henry hadn't been part of the prophecy at all. Knowing that only confirmed what Gold had said to her upon her return to Storybrooke, that everything she had ever done she'd done herself.

* * *

Emma continued to stay, watching her family for a little while longer when Henry called out.

"Mom, did you want to help?"

She smiled and placed her cup on the counter, making her way over to her son.

"Sure kid, what do you got for me?"

Henry handed Emma an ornament. Emma looked down at the ornament in her hand. It was a blue glass unicorn.

"I recognize this from Gold's shop," she said to no one in particular.

She saw as her mother looked up at her father and the two smiled at each other.

"It belonged to you," said David.

Emma looked up at them a little confused.

Snow took one of Emma's hands. "It was part of the mobile that hung above your crib. There were so many of them that I thought we could put them to use some other way."

Emma smiled at her mother. It was so like Snow to take something of value and make it new again. Emma looked down at the small unicorn again. Now knowing the truth, the little object held a deeper meaning as she found a spot for it on the tree.

Reaching down in the box Emma pulled out a clear glass unicorn.

"Okay kid, your turn," she said handing the ornament to Henry.

The boy smiled as he went to go place it on the tree as well.

* * *

Snow smiled as her daughter made her way down the stairs later that evening. She and David were sitting on the couch together in the living room.

"Is he out," David asked Emma.

Emma smiled, "He's trying. He's too restless."

"Well," said Snow, "It's Christmas Eve, what kid isn't it?"

Emma let out a small laugh and smiled until her eyes settled on the silver lock box that she had brought out earlier and left on the coffee table.

"You okay," Snow asked.

"Um…yeah," Emma said retreating to the kitchen.

* * *

She returned with a tray of hot chocolate for herself and her parents, which she placed on the table.

Emma looked at her parents and took a deep breath. "Earlier you shared something personal with me, the keepsake mobile. And having seen my nursery I know how much it means to you. Now I thought I'd share something personal with you."

Taking her chocolate Emma sat on the single love seat that was on the right side of the couch. She reached for the key in her pocket and opened the box. Taking a breath Emma revealed the wooden swan carved box and moved the silver one aside.

After twenty six letters the box had just about reached its limit. Emma knew that she was one letter shy before she should consider adding a lock to the box so the lid wouldn't pop open from the overflow of letters.

She placed the letters in row along the table and reached for the one at the far left. Some of the letters had the address of Santa Claus and others were left blank but always at top left corner, Emma had written her age. Emma sat holding the letter that had 'age 3' written on it.

"When I was a kid I used to write letters to Santa," Emma began. "It ended up turning into my own little Christmas tradition even after I outgrew believing. For a long time there was always one thing I asked for." Emma looked into her parents eyes, "You."

She reached down for her 'Age 16' letter, her hands slightly trembling. "By the time I was sixteen I kind of stopped asking. Since every year passed without results I decided that I was done waiting and that I would look for you myself. I was determined to prove that I didn't need anyone's help and that I could do it without some kind of magical help."

Emma handed a stack of letters over to Snow beginning with the 'Age 3' letter. "I've never shared these with anyone until now."

Snow looked at the letters in her hands. Snow ran her fingers over the child hand writing. She then looked up at her daughter. "You're sure about this," Snow asked hesitantly. "I mean if they're personal-,"

Emma smiled. "We all missed out on a lot. I missed out on having parents and you missed out on raising me." She then shrugged, "I don't know I just thought this would give you an insight to my past."

Snow placed a hand on top of Emma's. "Thank you."

* * *

Over the next several hours Emma's parents sat reading her letters. They took their time with them, memorizing the paper that was used, everything from construction paper, white computer paper, and lined paper and the change in hand writing over the years. As they finished each one they would pass them off to Emma who would re-read the letters; remembering the exact moment she wrote them. She would tell her parents about that. Her past still pained her but now having parents to actually talk to it got easier for her. She could see the pain in their eyes but Emma understood as it was the same pain reflected in her eyes.

* * *

Emma held the next letter close.

"This one I didn't write for myself," she said to her parents. "I wrote it for Henry."

She hesitated but let Snow take the letter. Out of all the letters she had written, this letter had always felt more personal than the rest.

After taking the time to read it, Snow reached over and took Emma's hand. With tears in her eyes she clutched Emma's hand tightly. Words did not need to be said in order to know what the other was feeling. The silence conveyed it all.

* * *

The family of three spent another few hours getting through the rest of the letters.

In that time Emma had gotten up, refilled their drinks, and began to put Christmas presents under the tree.

She found a sweet pleasure in this common task. Common because it was something all parents did for their children this time of year but for Emma it was her first; her first chance at playing 'Santa Claus' in the middle of the night.

David had also helped as there were presents he needed to place as well. Emma imagined he was feeling the same things as she. Though Emma was old enough and didn't need a 'Santa Claus' of her own, she was warmed by the fact that David was still doing it.

Not long after the round of cocoa was done as was the reading of all the letters, Emma gathered them up and placed them right where they belonged.

The three of them got up and stood for a while.

Snow then took a few steps forward and embraced her daughter. Emma gripped Snow tight, the both of them with tears in their eyes. At this very moment, Emma had finally been released from the weight of her past. David came in and hugged his daughter as well, the three of them standing there in momentary harmony.

"We love you," David whispered in her ear.

"I love you too," Emma replied.

Once released Snow reached up and wiped away some of Emma's tears and then held her daughter's hand. Emma smiled.

"That was the best Christmas present you could've given us," said David. "Thank you."

Emma had no words so she only nodded.

Snow smiled, "You'll never have to be alone like that again."

"I know," Emma said with one final smile.

She walked over to the table and gathered the box.

"Goodnight," Emma said to her parents.

"Good night, Emma," Snow replied.

David smiled, "Night."

As Emma walked to her room, David held his wife close and she clung to him.

* * *

The night was not quite over however. Emma placed the box on her desk, taking out the wooden box one more time. She reached in her desk and found some pink construction paper and some crayons. She pulled out the green one and began to compose her final letter.

'Dear Santa,' she wrote.

I did it.

You did it.

We did it.

We found my parents.

After years of searching we finally found them.

Turns out you were right all along.

There is magic in this world.

Without it I probably would have never found them.

And it turns out the child in me was right too,

there is such thing as saviors and superheroes and princes and princesses.

I'm one of them, my parents are some of them.

I am the daughter, the product of true love which is the most powerful magic of all.

I have my son. I have my parents. We finally made it happen.

I have no more to ask for

as my Christmas wish has finally been granted.

What more can I ask for when I have everything I've ever wanted…

On second thought, I can think of one thing, one person rather,

that after everything I still want.

I'll keep that one to myself for now.

In the end you know what's in my heart so

if it's meant to be I have faith it will happen.

Thank you for making this the best Christmas a child could ever ask for.

Love,

Emma.

* * *

Emma casually rubbed her swan pendant as she looked at the letter, having written it a second time as part of her tradition, placed them in the envelopes, and into the box.

She got ready for bed and turned out the light. Christmas morning would be here soon and it was a Christmas she was looking forward to since she would be spending it with her family. She couldn't remember the last time she felt excited over this holiday. She never really had. She felt like a child, she felt like Henry, anxious for the morning and what it would bring.

Emma smiled as she let herself drift off into a peaceful slumber.

* * *

**~END~**


	10. Special Feature

**Author's Note**: I can still remember the moment when this fanfic was inspired. I was listening to some Christmas music on the Casting Crowns Holiday channel on Pandora. Just in the Christmas mood. And then I heard the song "All I Really Want" by Steven Curtis Chapman and as I listened to the lyrics I couldn't help but think of Emma Swan. I totally had a fangirl moment as I listened to it because it reminded me so much of her and I got to thinking about what life must have been like for her in the foster system.

Did she hate Christmas? Was she jealous of the kids who celebrated it? Was she jealous because they had families and she did not? What went through her mind whenever such a joyous occasion came around? And as I continued listening to the lyrics they described so much what a child in the system must have thought.

It was by that, which I thought would make a good story. What if Emma had been the child that spoke the words in the lyrics? What if some of the thoughts were hers such as wanting a mom and dad and a family? And so because of that the 'Dear Santa' letters were born.

In the story I include parts of the lyrics but I figured here I would include the full song. You can always find the song on YouTube if you're interested in listening to it.

* * *

**"All I Really Want" by Steven Curtis Chapman**

_Well, I don't know if you remember me or not_  
_I'm one of the kids they brought in from the home_  
_I was the red-haired boy in an old, green flannel shirt_  
_You may not have seen me, I was standing off alone_

_I didn't come and talk to you 'cause that's never worked before_  
_And you'll probably never see this letter, anyway_  
_But just in case there's something you can do to help me out_  
_I'll ask you one more time_

_All I really want for Christmas is someone to tuck me in_  
_A shoulder to cry on if I lose, shoulders to ride on if I win_  
_There's so much I could ask for, but there's just one thing I need_  
_All I really want for Christmas is a family_

_Well, I guess I should go ahead and tell you now_  
_If it's really true about that list you have_  
_Somehow I always seem to end up in a fight_  
_But I'm really trying hard not to be bad_

_But maybe if I had a brother or a dad to wrestle with_  
_Maybe they could teach me how to get along_  
_And from everything I've heard, it sounds like the greatest gift on earth_  
_Would be a mom_

_All I want for Christmas is someone who'll be here_  
_To sing me happy birthday for the next 100 years_  
_And It's okay if they're not perfect or even if they're a little broken_  
_That's alright, 'Cause so am I_

_Well, I guess I should go, it's almost time for bed_  
_Maybe next time I write you I'll be at home_

_'Cause all I really want for Christmas is someone to tuck me in_  
_Tell me I'll never be alone, someone whose love will never end_  
_Of all that I could ask for, well, there's just one thing I need_  
_All I really want for Christmas is a family_


End file.
